


shattered windows and the sound, the sound of drums

by Murf1307



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types, Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, Falling Angels, Gen, Les Mis characters in the SPN universe, Only the Prologue so far, Prophecy, Season 8 finale spoilers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-06-12
Updated: 2013-06-12
Packaged: 2017-12-14 19:26:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/840508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Murf1307/pseuds/Murf1307
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The angels are falling.  Besides the Winchesters, only one hunter in the world knows what's going on.</p>
            </blockquote>





	shattered windows and the sound, the sound of drums

**Author's Note:**

> I intend on doing more of this fic at some point, but it's not top priority, so it's just gonna hang out here.

The sky lights up all over the world the night of May 15th.  A freak meteor storm, and no one can explain it, any more than they can explain Dick Roman’s sudden, violent, explosive death last year, or the two week spate of mysterious murders all over the USA the year before that.

This year, though, not even the hunters have any idea what’s happening.  Old ones, smart ones, sitting in their bars in close-knit little clumps, they have some idea — they swill their whiskey and mutter “fuckin’ Winchesters” in whatever language they like best — but nobody has any real idea what’s coming.

Except for one.

They call him R.  He doesn’t talk much, and he spends as much time drunk as he does hunting, but he’s good at what he does.  Real good, almost Winchester-level vicious when he wants to be.

They don’t know where he came from or why he does it — they don’t ask, because there’s no reason to.

When R comes to your town, the monsters are all gone inside a week.

That’s all that matters these days.

But anyway, back to R.  Presently, while the stars are falling all around outside, and the hunters he’s tagged up with — kids, really, except Bahorel, who’s almost famous for how good he is at taking down Leviathans — are outside watching, he’s asleep in his whiskey.

Until he isn’t.  

He wakes up because he can’t breathe, and there’s a silence weighing heavy on his ears that feels familiar.

Then, clear as a bell but only inside his head:

_They are falling._

Something claws at the inside of his chest, and the words clang through him, over and over and over because  _they are falling._

And he knows exactly who  _they_  are.


End file.
